Craving The Darkness
by DobbyRocksSocks
Summary: Remus needs it. He craves it. He hates himself for it. (Heed the warning in the AN)


**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **AN Warning - This is slightly disturbing and certainly not for a younger audience, so read with care.**

 **Written for;**

 **Can You Make It To The End, Round 4 - RemusRabastan**

 **100 Pairings - RemusRabastan**

 **Slytherin challenge - Rabastan**

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 **Craving the Darkness**

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He knows it can't go anywhere. He knows, and he knows, but it doesn't stop him from coming back, returning to feel the rough hands on his skin, or the talented mouth on his own. It doesn't stop him from needing the contact, craving the passion.

His friends are suspicious of him, of where he goes, of who he's with. James tries to ask with leading questions and Sirius is jealous and obvious in his dislike of Remus keeping secrets.

Remus cannot help what he needs. He cannot help what he craves. He cannot help that Rabastan is the only person he's ever found who can give him what he needs without belittling or fearing him.

He tries to tell himself it's the monster in him that likes it rough, that likes to bite and scratch and feel the same on his own skin. He tried to tell himself that without the wolf within, he'd be perfectly normal and satisfied with ordinary sex with ordinary people.

He tries and fails to convince himself that it isn't the danger that turns him on.

Rabastan is hard. He's rough. He's cruel and he takes without asking, takes as though it's his right and nothing will stand in his way. Remus can fight him. He can and does, and it feels incredible. Remus can bite into his neck, leave angry scratches on his back, bruises on his hips.

He can enjoy the ache left for days after their encounters, wincing when he tries to sit, whimpering at the welts on his back whenever he turns in his sleep. He can feel Rabastan for days and he loves it and it's that that he craves he thinks.

He wishes he were different. Wishes he could give Sirius what he wants, a committed, loving, romantic relationship. He wishes he were equipped for that, but he isn't. He knows that he'd be left unsatisfied, and that wouldn't be fair on either of them.

The hard part is the knowing who it is that he craves. He catches glimpses of the dark mark and it makes him shudder, even when he is trembling with pleasure. He fights for his life on the battlefields beside his friends, and it's always in the back of his mind, what will happen if a mask falls to reveal his lover?

His lover… he despises that word because Rabastan isn't his lover. They don't love, they fuck. It's raw and it's animalistic and it's about the last thing from love possible. They tear and the rip and they destroy. They don't love.

Love is for normal people.

Love is for those who don't have darkness inside them, clawing it's way to the surface. Love is for others. Love is not for the likes of Remus or Rabastan.

Perhaps that's why they match. Why they fit.

Perhaps that's why Remus keeps going back for more.

It's easy despite its hardness. It's simple despite the complications. It's necessary, despite Remus' loathing that it's what he needs.

Until it's over.

Remus hates himself when he hears what happened. Alice and Frank and Rabastan and his family and it's all a mess and Remus hates himself because even while he feels the loss of his friends he cannot help but feel the loss of whatever Rabastan has become for him.

His escape.

His vice.

His addiction.

No matter. Rabastan is sitting in a dank cell in Azkaban and Remus has been left alone without his friends, without his escape, with nothing left in the world but the darkness inside him. It claws at his inside, without the release he cannot get rid of the energy, he has nowhere safe for it to go except to lock it away and hope it remains where it is.

He dreams, thrashing in his bed as hands and tongues assault his body. He can almost feel the nails scraping through over his skin. He can almost feel the teeth sinking through layers at his neck.

Always almost but never quite there.

He wakes up sweating, crying, cursing and screaming because he needs and he craves and there is nothing for it.

He hates himself when he thinks about James and Lily and Frank and Alice because he thinks of them and he feels envy and jealousy that they have relief from the hell that is life.

He hates himself when he thinks of Sirius, because where the hell was that darkness when Remus needed it goddamn it? Where was the hate and the anger when Remus could have used it, could have channelled it into something they both could have used?

And then Hogwarts and Sirius. And still, the darkness eats away at him, and he agrees with Severus because he shouldn't be allowed near innocent minds when he is the way he is. He can only warp and destroy.

And then…

And then…

And Remus hates himself, because the breakout from Azkaban is bad news but he cannot stop the thrill of anticipation.

Rabastan is out.

Rabastan is free.

And goddammit, Rabastan will finally be there to take away the darkness.

If only for a while.


End file.
